The wind died first.
Not slowed—
not weakened—
died.
It was the kind of silence that didn't belong to the world,
the kind that erased background noise
as if someone pressed a cosmic mute button.
Qin Mian stiffened immediately.
"Kai…?"
Kai's shoulders locked.
Her breath froze midair.
"It's her."
The Hunters who had survived
were no longer running.
They had stopped where they stood,
bodies rigid,
as if held still by invisible hands.
One whispered hoarsely:
"W-we didn't call her…
we didn't think she'd come herself—"
Kai didn't answer.
Because there was nothing to answer.
The sky darkened—
not from clouds,
not from weather—
but from something pulling light out of the air.
A distortion opened above the street—
thin as a hairline fracture
but deep as an abyss.
And from that fracture
a figure stepped down.
No sound.
No weight.
No announcement.
Just quiet.
Too quiet.
Her shoes touched the cracked asphalt without a sound,
yet every Hunter dropped to one knee in terror.
Qin Mian hugged Yin Lie so tightly
her arms trembled.
Kai lowered her gaze instinctively—
then forced herself to look up.
The Director was not what Qin Mian expected.
She wasn't armored.
Not armed.
Not glowing with power.
She looked…
human.
Tall.
Graceful.
Hair pinned neatly.
A white coat draped over her shoulders
like a scientist who had stepped out of a lab
without bothering to change.
Her footsteps echoed faintly—
delicate, measured—
but each step pressed the world deeper into silence.
As if reality didn't dare make noise around her.
She stopped ten meters from Kai
and surveyed the blood-stained street
with calm, clinical eyes.
"Kai," she said softly.
Kai straightened as if struck.
"…Director."
The woman looked at the bodies of her Hunters
strewn across the ground.
"How disappointing."
No anger.
Just observation.
As if commenting on the weather.
Her gaze slid past Kai—
to Qin Mian.
To Yin Lie in her arms.
The air tightened enough to constrict lungs.
"So," the Director murmured.
"The Anchor prototype has awakened."
Qin Mian felt a chill crawl under her skin.
Anchor… prototype?
She wasn't the final design?
Her fingers dug into Yin Lie's shirt.
The Director finally met Qin Mian's eyes.
"It's good to meet you, Qin Mian."
Her tone was gentle.
Almost warm.
But Qin Mian felt her soul recoil
as if a cold hand had brushed her spine.
"You're… the one who locked me away."
"Hm." The Director smiled faintly.
"I prefer the term preserved.
You are… fragile, my dear.
And far too valuable to risk."
Kai snapped:
"She's not an object."
The Director's eyes flickered toward her.
"Ah. Kai.
You've disappointed me as well."
Kai stiffened.
Her knuckles whitened.
"I won't hand them over."
"I know."
The Director nodded as if assessing a minor variable.
"That is why I came in person."
Pressure
The Director took one step forward
and the entire street bent.
Not physically—
something deeper.
Qin Mian gasped.
Her vision swayed.
Her knees buckled.
Because it wasn't an attack.
It was permission being revoked.
Like the world had decided
she didn't belong here.
Yin Lie reacted instantly.
His body surged upward,
dragging her with him,
instinct roaring awake again.
His eyes snapped open—
Silver-blue and violent.
A growl vibrated low in his chest.
"—Mian…"
Qin Mian hugged him desperately.
"No—Lie—don't stand—
don't move—she'll kill you—!!"
He didn't hear her.
Because his instincts were screaming:
Protect the anchor.
Destroy the threat.
Energy crackled around his arms.
Frost spidered across the ground.
The air twisted,
space bending around him like heated metal.
The Director observed this with mild curiosity.
"Fascinating."
Kai stepped between them.
"Don't take another step."
The Director blinked, amused.
"This is not a fight you can win, Kai."
"It doesn't matter."
Kai's voice broke—
not weakly
but with conviction.
"I will still stand here."
The Director tilted her head.
"Why?"
Kai didn't answer.
The answer was too complicated.
Too old.
Too heavy.
So she said the simplest part:
"They're human."
The Director exhaled softly.
"Oh Kai…
No.
They're not."
Her hand lifted slightly.
Not a gesture.
Not a strike.
Just the suggestion of power.
Yin Lie roared.
The broken street quaked.
Light fractured.
Temperature plummeted.
Kai gritted her teeth.
"Director—stop—
you'll destabilize him!"
"That is precisely the point,"
the Director murmured.
Her eyes softened.
"Yin Lie, darling…
you should not exist."
Qin Mian screamed:
"DON'T YOU SAY THAT—!!"
The Director's eyes sharpened.
"And you, my dear,
should never have awakened."
Qin Mian trembled violently.
Yin Lie pressed her against his chest,
arms wrapping protectively around her.
His voice shook with static, rage, and instinct.
"…touch… her…
and I… kill… you…"
The Director smiled.
A small, warm smile.
"Good.
That means the bond is forming correctly."
Qin Mian froze.
"Bond…?"
The Director lowered her hand.
"You two were always designed to meet."
Kai's breath stopped.
Qin Mian went still.
Designed…?
But the Director had already turned away,
walking past the blood,
past the ruin,
past the bodies she'd never acknowledge.
She gave one final order:
"Bring the girl back alive."
Her eyes flicked toward Yin Lie.
"And if he resists—
erase him."
The Hunters bowed.
Kai stepped in front of them, blade drawn.
"You'll have to go through me first."
The Director didn't look back.
"That is the plan."
Chapter 116 End